


photongenic

by unhappyrefrain



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Caretaking, Drabble, Greed Island Arc, Hands, Indirect Confessions, M/M, Minor Injuries, idk you can take this as romantic or queerplatonic i dont know, post-battle aftercare, tags are hard wtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain/pseuds/unhappyrefrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your eyes meet his. They are gems, reflecting light. He has light around him, within him, how each of his facets catch it, photons lingering within him. You’ve never seen anything so bright in your whole life.</p><p>“I think we should, er, stay together.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	photongenic

Gon's hands are callused and soft, a paradox that works perfectly. There's dirt underneath his nails and the pads of his fingers are still healing, stinging with a new raw layer of skin, but he doesn't seem to mind— you are his top priority right now. He is gentle with the way he turns your hand over in his; your shriveled, blackened hand. It hurts to touch. But he's so soft that you don't quite notice how much. You wonder how one person can be so light, so many conflicting sensations at once. 

"Killua, how long will it take?"

"For my hands to heal? Um, I dunno."

Gon bites his lip, tracing the gaps between your fingers, where the vestigial webbing is pockmarked and worn from heat. He takes your wrist, up towards him, as if about to press your hand to his dirt-covered cheek-- _dammit_ , you think, you'll get it infected again-- but instead the soft touch of his lips is the reply, fluttering a kiss on your middle knuckle.

"Idiot," you stammer. 

But he does it again, this time moving his chapped lips to where your pointer finger meets your hand. He places a kiss there, like the seal on a letter, then his breath gusts over the burned webbing between your thumb and first finger and you wince. He's so gentle. You didn't know that Gon could even _be_ this gentle. Again, it hits you, how his entire existence is in opposites— burning topaz eyes, anger and intensity and fierce concentration, you _saw_ it in him as he launched the ball, his last and final resort, but also how they soften, bursting flames simmering into warm glowing coals. The painful sharpness of fire, morphing into sweetest heat. For you, and only you.

The pad of Gon's thumb presses into the jumping vein in your wrist. Checking for life.

“Why are you doing that? I’m alive, you know.”

“I dunno. I just like knowing you’re here.”

You understand what he means. The comfortable silence settles between you again, and he kisses the flat of the back of your hand before working on the bandages. Stretching the fabric out, he holds your wrist and slowly, tightly, moves the wrap around it twice, holding the tail in place. Then he takes the bandage diagonally across the back of your hand. The edge brushes the nail of your pinky, and you wince as the tightness comes in contact with the shriveling, blackened skin. Before you realize it, you’ve pulled yourself nearer to him, your legs closed around his knees in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Gon doesn’t seem to mind. He just continues to work the bandage over your hand, light touches as he wraps it under and across your fingers. Your heart pounds, and you hope he doesn’t check your pulse again.

“Killua, sorry.”

“For what?”

“This,” he states, bluntly, bringing it around the back of your hand again. “You kept hiding it. I knew it was happening but I couldn’t do anything else or we would have lost.”

“I wouldn’t have changed it for anything,” you say, under your breath. Then, a little bit more audibly. “It’s fine. You did what you had to. I would have been mad if you hadn’t.”

He secures the bandage with a bit of tape he’s had waiting on his arm. “I was selfish.”

You don’t say anything. You know that’s how he is. Because of the way he’s oriented directly towards his goals, sometimes he says and does things that he doesn’t realize could affect others. You’re there to keep him in check. This is how it is.

“Gon,” you say, finally, but he presses his chapped lips to the bandages, a promise.

“Killua.”

Your eyes meet his. They are gems, reflecting light. He has light around him, within him, how each of his facets catch it, photons lingering within him. You’ve never seen anything so bright in your whole life.

“I think we should, er, stay together,” he manages, but his voice is breathy and unstable and he sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Idiot. That was my plan.”

“No, I mean like, living, the whole time, and we’ll go on more adventures together, when we grow up, I wanna stay by your side.”

“Hey, Gon—"

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Your breath catches, your heart near stops. He’s so sincere, so determined, and he’s looking up with those eyes, completely serious. You’re used to ruining everything you touch, every friendship, anything you could hope to hold onto, but he’s the first person that’s never run away from you, and it hits you just _how_ real this is, how raw and sharp and _real_.

“Me too,” you breathe, like an exhale, like a sigh of relief. “But I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t,” he says, starts the bandage on your other hand, and his thumb inadvertently presses into the vein there, and you hope he doesn’t notice how fast your heart is beating, how your breathing is stuttering, “won’t lose me, Killua, I promise,” and it’s just as heart-wrenching and thrilling and as much a declaration of love as any kiss, the way he says it with his hands on yours wrapping and bandaging and _healing_.

_Don’t let me go,_ you want to say, but you bite it back— none of that is needed anymore. Silence is the answer, the unstated _okay,_ the affirmation. _Hold me until I stop imagining the moment you leave me behind. Hold me until I forget. Until I start believing it’s okay for me to be happy._

You don’t even notice when he’s done, when he leans into your shoulder and wraps his arms around you, and does exactly that.


End file.
